Chapter 3 - Chapter 3- The Palm Reader

Helios scraped across the rocky shore, dazed and barely conscious. His body ached, the blow to his side throbbed, and the back of his head pulsed from where it struck the river rock. He tried to lift his head, just enough to see who was dragging him, but everything blurred. His vision darkened, and he passed out again. When he next opened his eyes, he was staring at a ceiling he didn't recognize. The wooden beams looked old, but sturdy. There was a smell too, rich, warm, real food. Helios sat up slowly. His whole body protested the motion. He stumbled to the doorway, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings. Panic surged in his chest as he suddenly remembered, his father's sword. He whipped his head around, scanning the room. Relief flooded him when he spotted it, still in its sheath, leaning against the bed. Thank the stars… He clutched his side, steadying himself as he moved cautiously through the house. In the next room, he found an old man standing by a large pot, stirring something thick and aromatic. The man turned suddenly and shouted, "Ah! You're awake! Glad to see you're not dead. I found you by the river while I was out hunting deer." Helios narrowed his eyes. "How do I know I can trust you?" The old man chuckled. "If I wanted you dead, I would've left you there to rot. Or better yet, taken your sword." Helios frowned but said nothing. "Sit down, kid. Eat. You look like a skeleton wrapped in rags." He hesitated, but his stomach growled louder than his suspicions. He sat down, eyeing the bowl the old man placed in front of him. The smell alone almost made him cry. It had been years since he had a real meal, something warm, something with flavor. The last time he ate properly was before the camp. Back when food didn't taste like mold and misery. He took a bite. It was pure bliss. "So," the old man said between sips from his own bowl, "got a name, kid? Or should I just call you Bones?" Helios looked up with glassy eyes. "Helios. My name is Helios, sir." The man squinted. "No, your full name. Gotta know if you're local." Helios hesitated for a moment. "...Lion D. Helios." The man burst out laughing. "Damn, that sucks! Can't say I've heard that name 'round here." Helios choked on his food from the sudden outburst. The old man handed him a cup of water, patting his back. "Well, name's Graham. Most folks just call me Old Man Graham. You're welcome to stay until you can walk straight again. But I suggest you stretch your legs a bit. Go take in the fresh air. Maybe talk to people." Helios nodded, still chewing. After finishing his meal, he bowed his head slightly. "Thank you, Old Man Graham." As he walked out into the village, the air shifted. Everyone he passed stared. Eyes lingered. Murmurs spread. Children laughed from a distance and threw pebbles his way. One struck his back. Then another. He flinched. It all felt too familiar. The village. The glares. The judgment. His chest tightened. He ducked into an alley, hoping for a moment of peace. Then a voice. "Excuse me, boy. Do you mind if I look at your palm?" Helios turned to find an old woman. Her face was wrinkled and kind, but her eyes had a strange glint to them. He hesitated. "Sure… why not." She gently took his hand, tracing the lines of his palm, examining his nails, the shape of his fingers, even the tiny wrinkles near his knuckles. "What's your dream, child? Your goal?" she asked softly, not taking her eyes off his hand. Helios froze. He had no answer. He didn't know what he wanted. All he knew was pain. Anger. Vengeance. She hummed thoughtfully. "Think about it. Deeply. Come back tomorrow with your answer. If I like it… I'll give you a little tip." Helios looked down at his hand, then back at her. "Yeah… I'll do that. I'll see you tomorrow." He wandered out of the village, unsettled. He needed space. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere his thoughts could scream without interruption. He found a lone rock in a wide grassy plain and sat down, staring at the sky. The sun warmed his face while a gentle breeze rolled across the field. It was peaceful. Too peaceful for what was going on inside him. What are my goals?What dream do I even have?What do I do with all this anger? He lay back, eyes on the endless blue above. He knew some things for certain. He wanted to know why his people were murdered, why they were enslaved. He wanted to kill god. But that thought suddenly felt… hollow. What if there is no god? What if I was just unlucky? The idea chilled him more than any shadow or ghost. He whispered aloud, barely moving his lips: "What if there's no god to kill? What if all this suffering… wasn't divine punishment, just chaos wearing no face? Then who do I blame? And what does that make me?" His voice cracked. "Maybe I was never chosen. Maybe none of us were. Just bodies thrown into a storm without reason, screaming at skies that never planned to answer." His breathing slowed. His mind didn't. "If there's no one pulling the strings... then everything I am, everything I've done, was just me trying to give pain a purpose." "Maybe the gods didn't abandon us. Maybe they were never there at all." He drifted into sleep. The sun was low when he woke again. Shadows stretched long across the grass. Helios returned to the village and told Old Man Graham about his walk, though he left out the part about the old woman. Graham listened and apologized for how the villagers treated him. The next day, Helios returned to the alley. The old woman was already waiting. She smiled as he approached. "So... what is your answer, boy?" Helios looked up, straight into her eyes. "They left me broken, no name, no body, no power… just silence and the memory of pain. The gods turned their backs while the world burned, watching as we suffered. But I have not forgotten. Every scar is a shard of glass, clear, sharp, waiting to cut deep when the time is right. I will gather them all. Piece by piece. And when the time comes, I will use them to carve a path to a world without chains. A world where happiness isn't granted by gods, but forged by those strong enough to bleed for it. I don't need their light. I will become my own. I… AM VENGEANCE." Helios turned away, but before he left the alley, the old lady called out, "Here's my tip, get gone within two days. That old man… he's no friend. He hunts runaway slaves. If you don't want to be caught, slip away without a trace and head toward the Black Mountains. They won't dare touch that place. Stay safe, boy." Helios turned around, surprised. "I didn't know that. Thank you, miss. You relit my spark." The old lady smiled faintly, her eyes glinting with quiet wisdom. "Just don't let it burn out too soon, boy. The world needs that fire, more than you know." Later that night, Helios moved quietly through the dimly lit room, gathering what little he could carry. His fingers brushed against the cold steel of his father's sword resting in its sheath by the bed, a silent promise of the path ahead. With practiced stealth, he rifled through Old Man Graham's storeroom, pocketing enough food and supplies to last him days. He knew better than to leave anything behind that might slow him down. The moon hung low, casting silver light through the small window of his room. Helios eased it open and climbed out, careful not to make a sound. The cool night air hit his skin, sharp and unforgiving. As he slipped through the shadows toward the village edge, the faint murmur of voices drifted from a nearby tavern. Peering cautiously, Helios caught sight of Old Man Graham and his slave traders, laughing and drinking as if they held the world in their grasp. A surge of urgency pushed Helios forward. He dashed into the darkness, heart pounding, until the glow of lanterns faded behind him. Just when exhaustion threatened to catch him, a cart rumbled past, loaded with cargo and driven by a grizzled man. Without hesitation, Helios leapt aboard, gripping the side as they sped toward the looming silhouette of the Black Mountains. The closer they came, the heavier the air grew, thick with silence and unease. The mountain's shadow seemed to swallow the land, exuding a cold that bit deeper than the wind. Helios's skin prickled with warning. He knew this was no ordinary journey; the mountain held secrets, dangers, and perhaps the first true test of his fledgling resolve. As the cart ground to a halt at the mountain's edge, Helios took a deep breath, tightening his grip on his sword. Ahead lay the unknown, the beginning of everything. He stepped forward into the dark with his hand on his father's sword.